Boxes and the Doctor

This is going to be one interesting weekend. 
I'm spending it doing the preliminary move of my Mom's stuff to her new home and sorting out the loose ends of who's taking what out of the house I grew up in. It's a bit overwhelming. But mostly, what we're finding is that when we seperate everyone else's stuff from our own, it's not that much and we've got it well under control. But every time things seem like they're settled and all that's left is to grab the box and roll, someone breaks down in tears. 

It is after all the house that's been home for 25 years. When we walk out of the house in September, it will be the last time we live there. It will be the last time it is our home, and that seems a bit daunting.

Still, it's all good. We're taking the memories with us, and we'll be able to enjoy Doctor Who quotes and soundtracks as we pack up and move. It's times like these that I wish we had a TARDIS.

Song of the day: Doctor Who- Vale Decem
By the way, Doctor Who is back August 27th at 9/8c on BBCAmerica! Watch it!

Fairy Tale Endings Are Lies

When I was a little girl
Europe was the home of fairy tales
Germany was home to magical monsters and witches who eat kids
France was home to princesses and maternal geese
Sweden was home to elves, Middle Earth and epic fights
England was home to would-be-kings and knights.

When I was a teenager
Europe was the home of enlightenment and growth
Germany was home to Einstein and Kessler
France was home to Pasteur and Curie
Sweden was home to social realism
England was home to the words that untied me to them

When I grew up
Europe was just like America.
We've failed to teach our youth the value of our home,
We chase down rioters and anonymous hackers
We let loose well dressed villains
While we pay off bankers and news corps with millions.

Combat Boots

When I was eleven, I wore combat boots, legitimate Navy issue Shore Duty combat boots. Lord knows where they came from, but none the less they were mine. I used to wear those boots with torn jeans (they weren't bought that way and I've forgotten how many times my parents tried to throw them out but I know I retrieved them from the trash can more than five times) and a Air Force field jacket, which came from my dad.

It's hard to know how I changed from that stubborn, confident, dissident child to this run of the mill milk toast woman longing for approval from random strangers on social networking sites. I'm sure that it wasn't a specific moment. I'm sure it was a slowly lost battle with my mother and society about what a woman is supposed to be and do and wear. I know it happened in college and came with the desire to be accepted by someone who had no idea who I was until after I opened my mouth (and as fast as my pen moves, my brain finds sarcasm and wit slowly when impressions are to be made). It was self preservation at the cost of self.

Looking back now, knowing what the world is and the battles to be fought, I miss the girl with the field jacket and combat boots. They are tools much better suited for the world of adults.



Song for the day:  http://www.thesixtyone.com/#/s/azGPSYWEo5p/

webcomics

It's so not fair. I can't update the blog from work and when I get home I'm lost in a sea of news briefs and web comics. I try to balance the crap with some smiles!

In other news it looks like reasonable housing with permissions for the dogs and Tobin is to be had in Ok. What's yet to be seen is why I don't seem to get the call back for any job.

I'm off to bed before I get stuck in another comic.

So... there's that...

There goes yet another attempt to consistently do much of anything every day for a month. But in it's place I'm inserting exercise. It's an insane 90 degrees here at night. I think it wouldn't suck so much if I didn't have a layer of blubber to carry around with me, so hello again Richard Simmons, I haven't even forgotten the dance moves.